


Karma

by Spookie_Kitten



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Abuse, Female Friendship, Gen, Original Character Death(s), POV Original Character, Scars, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spookie_Kitten/pseuds/Spookie_Kitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that I couldn't take it, it was that I didn't accept it from them. But I never appreciated what I had until it was too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to beta reader Miss Marion for helping!  
> Warning: If you didn't read the tags, that's your problem. Some things may be disturbing for people under age 13.  
> Don't like? Don't read. Simple as that.  
> Disclaimer: You should know already that I don't own anything except my Original Character.

With the sun burning on my back, I ran as fast as I could along the open road.

I needed to get away from my father. The abuse was taking too much of a toll on me, but the only other family member still alive was my uncle, who lived in the bustling town of Middletown, Delaware, about twenty-six miles from the city of Dover. I lived in Baltimore, Maryland, a grueling seventy-one miles away. It was going to be a long run, but an increased wave of desperation took over, making my adrenaline start pumping and giving me the extra amount of energy to run a little farther.

I fell to the ground, unable to run any further, and started to cry. 'Why was he abusing me?' I asked myself, huffing from the over-exertion. He would always come through the front door staggering and mumbling to his self. I would be in the kitchen, looking in the fridge, only to turn around and see him yelling at me with his slurred speech.

"Why're you s'ill up?" he hiccupped.

"I was hungry, daddy," I would say, closing the fridge.

"Come herr."

Staggering towards me, he grabbed my arm, turning me around forcefully, my hair flying everywhere. Keeping his firm grip on my arm, an extreme force took me by surprise, taking all of my breath from my lungs. Letting me go, the agonizing force continued; it went from my face to my left arm, then to my stomach and my right arm. My father took advantage of the empty counter; anything that was in sight, he used. Some days, I would be barely breathing, but he never took notice. Maybe he was sad from my mother dying from birthing me; I was never sure what went through his head.

Either way, when he had his fill, he demanded that the kitchen be as clean as a whistle.

A car pulled to the side of the road, its headlights shining on me. I looked up and saw a woman, with worry wrinkles across her forehead and stray gray hairs coming out of her tight bun, get out of her car. She walked cautiously up to me.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" She asked, with worry in her voice. "Why are you out here?"

"My…daddy keep-ps hitting me." I sobbed.

She frowned, with her eyebrows furrowing, her wrinkles moving as she did. "Do you have anyone you can stay with?"

"My uncle," I whimpered. "He lives in Delaware."

The lady now looked determined. "That isn't far," She held out her hand, smiling sincerely. "Here, I can take you to your uncle's house."

I rubbed the tears from my eyes, and took her hand.

  
~_Years Later_~  


My first day of college was tomorrow, and I was checking my list for the seventh time to make sure I had everything. My uncle came with me to Georgia to make sure my day went off on the right foot. He rented a hotel room, which wasn't the best I've seen, but it was good for a few days, with having only one bedroom and bathroom.

"Uncle Rob," I called. "Do you have any Tylenol?"

"It's in the cabinet, Brianna, on the top shelf."

I was getting a headache from reading my small printed list of school supplies. Walking from the bedroom to the bathroom, I stretched forward to open the mirrored cabinet above the sink and fished out the Tylenol bottle that was in the back.

Once I took the pill, I left the bottle on the corner of the sink, knowing Uncle Rob would be making quick use of it. I walked back to the bedroom, and checked my list one last time before taking a nap.

Waking up, I looked to the clock, with its face staring back at me in mean red numbers reading 10:00 P.M. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly got out of bed, stretching my muscles, and lazily shuffled to the kitchen to find something to eat.

I opened the fridge, shying away from the bright light for a few moments while my eyes took the time to focus. Finding nothing appetizing, I randomly grabbed a few baby carrots from the bag on the middle shelf, and munched in silence, admiring the crisp taste.

Finishing the last carrot, I slowly closed the fridge, taking the time to re-adjust to the shadows that expanded in the corners, slowly taking over the entire kitchen. I then snuck back to the bed, not taking the time to put the covers around me as the darkness consumed me.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up again, a week into college, with the hotel quiet. I shrugged it off and went to the bathroom, and paused to look in the mirror.

My hazel eyes were tired, but had a soft appearance. I still had all of the abusive scars from when I was younger, some worse than others. My straight, light brown hair had a few tangles so I grabbed the brush from the other corner of the tiny sink and worked through my hair for a few minutes. Then, I put it back in a ponytail. I was 20, but the bruises and tired eyes made me look a lot older than I was. I walked out of the hotel carrying my books and my fifteen-page psychology report on the criminal mind. About forty feet from the Psychology building, I saw a classmate limping towards me.

"Hey, is something wrong?" I asked.

The classmate groaned, and with further analysis, there was blood all over their neck, mouth, and clothes. He had a pale complexion, and part of the skin from the neck was missing. I slowly walked backwards from the person, and turned around to run, dropping my books and report in the process. I didn't scream, most likely because the shock didn't set in. The campus was full of people who looked like the classmate I ran into. Exiting the campus, I ran back to the hotel, passing my room, and continued up the ten flights of stairs to the rooftop. When I came to the top, I slammed the door and sat on the dirty floor, making sure to keep an eye on the door every once in a while.

I was a little shaky from running ten flights of stairs, but I wasn't really tired. Running away from my father multiple times paid off. Shaking my head, I attempted to stop the memories from coming back. I saw a flying object from the distance. It was coming towards the building, but I couldn't make out what it was, but once it got closer, I realized it was a helicopter. I wove my hands in the air, but it turned around and went the opposite direction.

"Hey!" I yelled.

I must have forgotten about the door because I heard it burst open. There were four people, one of them being a woman. She looked older than me with a pink bloodied Depeche Mode t-shirt covered in dirt, faded black slim jeans and matching boots, with black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and dark skin.

Following her, there was a man who looked middle aged with a white suit with shoes to match, both mostly brown from blood, and a blue dress shirt with slicked back dirty dark brown hair, with layered gold rings on his fingers. His hunting rifle gave a click.

"Who're you?" He asked with his raspy voice, his eyes anything but sincere.

I ignored him.

There was a guy behind him, looking around my age, maybe older, with a bloody yellow Bull Shifters t-shirt and a dark blue mechanic jumpsuit, with the arms tied at his waist. He was wearing a blue hat with a picture of a white tow truck, covering his curly medium brown hair, and worn out brown boots, and had a light complexion, like me, only tanner.

Lastly, a man, who had a slightly grayed beard and a bald head, wore an orange and white t-shirt with blood stains forming x-marks in select places and rugged, long tan khakis with mostly white tennis shoes, yellowed from age and browned from dried…blood? And had dark skin, like the woman, followed him. They all had weapons, dirt, and bloodstains all over their clothes and hair. They all looked at me, and I silently stared back.

"Hey guys, I think we got ourselves a survivor!" The woman informed.

"Whut's yer name, miss?" The southerner asked, smiling really big.

"Why would you want to know?" I snapped. It wiped the smile clean from his face.

The guy in the white suit glared at me in silence, and the bald guy had a questioning look on his face.

"Honey, what's your name?" The woman asked politely.

"Brianna. You can call me Bri if you want to." I smiled warmly at the woman.

"I'm Rochelle. Coach," She pointed at the bald guy, "Nick," She then half-heartedly gestured at the guy in the white suit, and lastly pointed at the southerner. "And this is Ellis."

"We should grab some new weapons. The ones we have now aren't going to last much longer." Coach informed the group.

I rolled my eyes and looked to Rochelle, who was stocking up on ammo. She felt my glance, and turned to me.

"Are you gonna grab a weapon?"

"Yeah, once the men are done." She turned to the men and whispered something, but I didn't hear it. The men backed away from the table, and I approached it. There was a red pack with a white cross, so I figured it was a first-aid kit and grabbed it. I grabbed the crowbar and the two pistols, and turned to Rochelle.

"Okay everyone, follow me." Coach said.

"I am not following a man." I stood where I was. Coach looked at me.

"Why not?"

"I hate men."

"And why is that, cupcake?" Nick asked, turning his head slightly in mock confusion.

"You should shut up, before I shoot your head off. And don't call me cupcake."

The other three looked at me in silence.

"Who else wants to leave her?" Nick looked to the rest of the group, waiting for their input.

"You can't just leave me here with those…things!" I defended.

"You have to learn to respect us, then." Coach took Nick's side. "No respect, no survival."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I snapped.

Nick cut in before Coach could speak. "Exactly that. You respect us, and you can join the group. If you want to be a bitch, be my guest. But we're not going to take it."

Coach and Rochelle nodded in agreement.

"Oh, _I'm_ the bitch?" I asked rhetorically. "Look who's talking, Mister 'I-couldn't-give-two-shits-about-anything!'"

"Can't we jus' ged alon—"

" _NO!_ " Nick and I shouted in unison, not only leaving Ellis silent, but Nick and I exchanging glares.

"Don't talk to Ellis like that." Nick said flat-out. He then turned to the group. "Let's go, guys."

He motioned to the door, and with that, the rest of the group started to leave me.

"Wait!" I shouted.

They stopped, Nick being the only one to turn around.

"I'm sorry. It's all of the stress and the lack of sleep that's got me on edge." I made up an excuse; anything for them not to leave me alone with the living dead.

"Are you going to respect us?" Coach asked.

"Yes." I lied.

They motioned for me to join them.

"But," I added. "Could Rochelle lead?"

They looked at Rochelle.

Rochelle sighed and walked past Nick, Ellis, and Coach, with me behind her, and the men behind me.


	3. Chapter 3

We must have been fighting for a while, due to the pile of dead bodies everywhere, and I, along with Rochelle and one other person, had resorted to our melee weapons. It seemed like every hallway had its own pack of weird people, and everywhere we went, there appeared to be more than the last hallway.

The hallway we were presently on had a huge thing that puked everywhere, and was guarding a nearby weapons table that we desperately needed. If that wasn't enough, all of us were out of bullets, so we had to fight with our handy close-combat weapons.

'Figures,' I thought to myself, 'those men can't even think to reserve any bullets.'

Eventually, we got to kill the huge thing, but we were all covered in bile. Practically sprinting to the table, we all quickly grabbed whatever we could, and ran to the elevator, with the sounds of rushing zombies coming towards us. We didn't really make much conversation after the door slid closed.

"You guys can actually defend yourselves. I might hang with you for a while." Nick said, smirking.

"Yeah, only because you can't save your sorry ass from these weird people." I retorted.

"Because you can?"

"Better than you, grease-pit."

"At least I can shoot."

"Really? The last time I checked, I heard you cursing about how you couldn't pull the trigger!" My voice rose.

"At least I know how to work a gun."

"At least I know how to work a crowbar, so I can bash your face if you-"

"Enough. Let's just try to get out of here." Rochelle cut in. Couch nodded in agreement. Ellis stood there, looking like his hick-self.

After a good four hours, we found a red steel door, and Rochelle (of course; I wouldn't let the men lead.) turned the knob, opening the door to a room filled with fist-aid packs, pain pills, adrenaline shots (I never understood what they were for), and an array of guns. The saferoom was well lit. I sat down in a corner, and asked Rochelle who those people were.

"Those aren't people. Those are zombies. There was a virus that spread around the United States and CEDA is looking for survivors."

"I don't understand," I looked up to her; she was cleaning her gun. "Don't viruses kill people, not make them into zombies?"

"They call this the Green Flu. It isn't really a Flu, but CEDA can't find any supposed 'cure' for it, so they want to gather up the immune."

"I'm immune?" I asked.

"You're not a zombie, are you?" She laughed.

I forced a shaky laugh, and shook my head.

Coach walked over to me and held out his hand.

"Get away from me!" I screamed and backed farther into the somewhat darkened corner.

Nick and Ellis looked over, and Rochelle continued to clean her gun.

"I just want to help. I want to clean your guns." He said.

"Go away. I don't want you near me." My voice calmed down, but I still put my attitude forth.

He walked away. Nick, in turn, walked up to me.

"He just wanted to clean your guns up, princess."

"I don't need your attitude, white-out."

"Give your guns to me." He held out his hand.

"No. Can't you take a hint?" I answered the question before he could reply. "Of course you can't. You're a man. Men can't think for themselves."

He was silent. I scowled at him. He stood still for a little bit before turning on his heel. Looking at Ellis, I was expecting him to walk up to me. He stood up, slowly, and silently walked up to me. He squatted down so he was eye-level, with his crystal blue eyes looking into my hazel eyes. It calmed me down, surprisingly.

"Miss, could Ah see yer guns?" He asked gently.

"No." I didn't want him to hint at my calmness, so I took a bigger effort to snap at him.

"Bri, give him your pistols and the shotgun." Rochelle interrupted.

I gave up, and gave Ellis my guns to clean. He smiled warmly and walked back to his spot and pulled out a towel. I got up while he was cleaning my guns, and whispered to Rochelle.

"Don't ever ask me to give anything to a man again." I made sure my venomous stare caught her eye.

Rochelle turned to me, matching my stare with her own poisonous glare, and darkly said, in a low tone, "Don't give me a reason to."  
  
~_A Few Seconds Later_~  
  


I continued to walk past Nick and Coach, before I stopped in front of Ellis. He was cleaning one of my pistols, when he looked up at me. I squatted down in front of him, squinting to get a better look at him. He had a scratch running across his nose, and looking farther down, saw that his shirt was conformed to his chest from sweat, and had not only bloodstains, but also rips and scratch marks. 'He must have gotten pinned by a zombie,' I thought.

"Here's yer shotgun 'nd yer pistols." He broke my attention and I snapped my eyes to his. His hand was held out slightly with my pistols and balancing my shotgun on the palm of his other hand. I took them, with a little more force than necessary, nodded once to show my thanks, and stood up again. Once I had my weapons, I shuffled back to my corner, and slid down the wall to the floor. Cradling the guns in my arms, I eventually fell asleep.  
  
~_Dream_~  
  


 _I was running from them. They were slowly closing in on me, but when I turned the corner of the alleyway, my panic suddenly changed to terror. It was a dead end. Slowly turning around, I saw my father with his friends pointing guns at me._

_"Why do you want to kill me?" I started to sob._

_"You killed the only love of my life." My father smiled wickedly. "So I will finally get my revenge."_

_"I'm sorry!" I cried._

_He mumbled something along the lines of "sympathy won't get you anywhere", and with a simple wave of his hand and turn of the heel, he told his friends to kill me. Gunshots were fired, and suddenly, I felt nothing._

I woke up with a blood-curdling scream. Ellis, Coach, Rochelle, and Nick sat up abruptly and looked to me. I was practically hyperventilating from the dream, and once I calmed down, I looked around to see everyone looking at me.

"Are you okay, Brianna?" Rochelle was the first to ask, since she knew I wouldn't answer to anyone else.

"Yeah," I sighed, "It was just a nightmare."

The men fell back to sleep almost right away, while Rochelle and I talked a little more.

"Rochelle?" I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Why…I mean, how do you put up with these guys?" I looked to my left, where her silhouette was.

"It takes a lot of patience, but once you get to know them, they tend to understand you better, and respect you. I guess they get nicer the longer you stay with them." We looked over to one of the silhouettes that shifted. I waited a little bit before I replied.

"You must be one of those 'equality for all' kind of people." I snickered.

"Yes," I heard her voice rise slightly. "I happen to like men. Why do you hate men so much?" I was a little shocked at her sudden change of topic.

"I'd rather not say. It's too uncomfortable." I shifted away from Rochelle.

"C'mon, you can tell me. The guys aren't listening."

"How do you know they aren't?" My attitude was back.

"They are asleep. They sleep like babies." I guess it was her hint for me to tell her.

I told her my life story practically, because the abuse from my father was pretty much my life. She sat there, listening, as I told her about all the things he did to me, and ended with the dream I screamed about. I looked back at her eyes, but it was so dark that all I saw was only the silhouette of her face.


	4. Chapter 4

We all woke up to the pink and orange light of dawn. I didn't recall ever going to sleep, though. Nick and Coach were double-checking all of our supplies (except for mine; I checked mine myself.) to make sure that we had everything we needed before heading outside to the zombie-infested world. Rochelle was reloading all of the guns, while Ellis and I were standing at the saferoom door, shooting at the occasional zombie that walked by. I could feel someone staring at me, but I chose to ignore it, mainly because it was probably either Nick or Ellis.

"'Ey, Bri?" I pinched the bridge of my nose with my finger and thumb of my free hand, and slowly turned to Ellis while pulling my hand away.

"Yeah?" I said as calmly as possible.

"Did ah ever tell you 'bout the time me an' Keith were makin' fireworks? Well, Keith figured…" He continued on, with me tuning him out completely. I looked over to Rochelle, who had the same expression of 'will he ever shut up' on her face. I smiled slightly, and turned to Ellis, who had stopped.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" I asked.

"Did you ever have uh crush on someone?" I dropped my pistol.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rochelle tense up a lot. Everyone else stopped what they were doing and looked at Ellis and I. I looked up to Ellis, who was still waiting for an answer.

"Do you want the truth, Ellis?" I asked.

He stared into my eyes with such curiosity, I almost felt bad for the attitude I gave him. Almost.

"No. I have never had a 'crush' on anyone. I don't like men."

"So…yer…gay?" He was trying to register what I said.

"No. I'm not 'gay'. I don't love men. But I don't love women either. Am I speaking a foreign language here?" I was aiming the question mostly at everyone, not just Ellis.

I looked around the saferoom, and snorted. Opening the door, I walked outside into the zombie-infested world, with my shotgun around my back (I wouldn't let anyone touch it, let alone touch me) and one of my pistols still in my hand. My hands were shaking, not because of fear or anger, but because I had gotten really nervous talking about my love life. 'I don't love anyone,' I told myself over and over again.

I shot a few infected wandering around, to try to distract myself from what happened back at the saferoom. Unfortunately, the event didn't leave my mind.

In fact, it came back more than I wanted it to; so much that I had to stop where I was. I didn't even see the approaching witch coming from around the corner. I blindly walked towards the sound, forgetting that I was alone. The only reason I snapped into reality again was when I saw the witch starting to come toward me screaming. Instantly, I ran out the way I came and sprinted to the saferoom I walked out of earlier. It was weird though, because I didn't feel like I was running fast enough, but the proof came when I tripped over a dead zombie I shot minutes ago. Rolling over on my back, the witch closed in on me. My life was flashing before my eyes.

All of the people that I hit, the abuse from my father, the people who tried to help me but got rejected, then all of the times I yelled at my team mates. It was mainly at Nick and Ellis, but for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to apologize to them. I heard gunshots, but I still felt claws tearing at my chest. Then, I couldn't feel or see anything.

The gunshots and screams halted, and there was no longer a witch scratching at me that I could feel.

I felt someone trying to bandage my torso, but they mumbled something.

"I don't think she'll make it out alive, guys." Coach?

"She's got to. The cuts aren't that deep." I knew that was Rochelle.

"It's not the cuts that are killing her."

"What is it, then?"

"She's got…scars? They've been opened up by that witch."

"Scars? Where did she get those? Was it from those zombies she 'oh-so-stubbornly' wanted to take on alone? Or was it because of her sex-life?" Nick said, laughing at his own joke. A few seconds later, I heard a slap, followed by an "ouch!".

"She was abused by her father. That's why she hates men." Rochelle confessed.

"Oh no. Guys! Ah think she's losin' her pulse!" Ellis. I knew that southern voice right away.

Wait. My pulse? As in, I'm going to die?

"We're going to have to let her die. There's nothing we can-"

"G-guys?" I had a hard time talking.

I heard silence, so I kept talking.

"I'm sorry about my-" I winced in pain. "-My attitude."

~_Ellis' P.O.V._~

Her pulse completely stopped. Ellis' hand was still on her wrist, with tears welling up in his eyes. Ellis felt Rochelle and Coach's hands on his shoulders.

"Sorry, Ellis." Coach said. "We tried our best."

He sniffled.

"Aw, Hee-haw. I'm sorry. We all had our loving moments with her, even Nick."

"Ah wanted t' help her." He choked, trying to hold back the overwhelming scene before him.

The rest of the group stood in silence. Coach helped Ellis up and they all stood for a short time before leaving Brianna in the street.

~_FIN_~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Karma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/650661) by [Chibi Kitten (Spookie_Kitten)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spookie_Kitten/pseuds/Chibi%20Kitten)




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